American Idiot THE NOVEL
by TreCoolIsMyBitch
Summary: Everyone has heard of Green Day's American Idiot CD, performed as a Rock Opera. Now see what happens when its turned into a novel! Follow St.Jimmy, Jesus of Surburbia, and Whatsername as they cause havok on the town of Berkeley, California.
1. Chapter I

**CHAPTER 1**

Not often do I come across the tale of a kid who made his teens a living hell of anarchy and booze, then managed to be a normal, productive adult. Or the story of a kid, who fought authority, ran away from home, lived on the streets, and still didn't get killed. But I say 'not often' because I know a kid who pulled off something like this.

Me.

I am sometimes known as the Jesus of Suburbia, because one day my best friend James ruffled my hair and laughingly told me I'm such a good kid I'm like Jesus, only badder, so I'm like the Jesus of Berkeley, or 'Suburbia'. James has always been the leader of our group. He started it all, really.

He was the 6-year-old that snuck away from church when his foster parents dragged him there; who said and knew more cusswords than have ever been recorded in history, and on top of that, he smoked, drank, and defied authority more than some of the people appearing on America's Most Wanted, but James was never caught. So he was still around, still politely rubbing it in my face that he's cooler and better than I could ever hope to be. He got the girls, the pride, and the spotlight, and the only sliver of it I could ever receive was a chance bit that gleamed on me as I stood encased in my friend's shadow.

St. Jimmy, as a lot of people called him, was far more the person I wanted to be. So I idolize him, even though I was constantly reminded that I could never be like him. I come from normalcy. Sure, my parents are divorced, Mom has a new husband named Brad who hates me, and Dad's slept with every hooker in the Bay, but who hasn't? I strive still.

Jimmy is definitely from a broken home, a past riddled with suicide, murder, booze, and everything else that comes to mind when you visit him in the warehouse on 12th he lives in when he's mad at his latest set of foster parents. Jimmy is a brilliant kid, but he can't even remember his proper last name anymore. That's what beer and weed have done to him.


	2. Chapter II

**CHAPTER 2**

"And still you want to be like him!" My mom yelled one night as she and her new husband, Brad found me attempting to hide the beer I'd been drinking as I watched the news and pissed about America. "Why? You were such a good kid until you met him!"

"Maybe I don't want to be a good kid anymore!" I screamed at her. She huffed angrily, stormed at me that I was grounded, and grabbed Brad's wrist and dragged him out the door, slamming it behind her.

Grounded? As if. Like she can stop me from doing anything I wanted to do, because I didn't care.

The phone rang beside me, so I plucked it up and answered "Hello." in the tone of voice that immediately told the other party that I had better things to do than answer the stupid phone.

Jimmy was on the other end.

"Jesus, little bro!" He said chipperly. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," I sighed, no intentions to repeat the evening to him. "Why are you so happy?"

I could almost _hear_ Jimmy grin. "You won't believe this."  
"Believe what?"

"Remember when I said that I had a friend in Chicago who was my foster sister once?"

I nodded, then rememberd Jimmy wouldn't be able to see my acknowledgement over the phone, and said yeah.  
"Guess who came by for a visit?" Jimmy squealed. "Hey, why don't you come down and meet her?"

"Sure. Anything to get out of this house." I told him.

Jimmy thanked me, and then hung up. I don't know how he manages to have a phone when he doesn't even have a system that he can hook it up to. I think he just hacks off the phone line at the Circle K next door to the warehouse. Come on, it's St. Jimmy. He's cool like that.


	3. Chapters III & IV

**CHAPTER 3**

Jimmy met me by the street corner. He was patiently smoking a cigarette and talking animatedly to a young girl who was dressed in a raggy black dress. Somehow I didn't think it was raggy because of her lifestyle. She was so entrancing that I stared at her as I walked, and almost knocked over a trashcan.

Jimmy laughed at me. "Hey, if it's not the clumsy Jesus!"

"Hi," I said, straightening the trashcan. Jimmy and the girl came forward, and she extended her hand.

"Jesus, this is my girl, Haushinka." Jimmy introduced, "And Whatsername, this is the Jesus of Suburbia."

Haushinka smiled at me. She was obviously older than Jimmy, which placed her as probably older than me, because Jimmy is two weeks younger than me. She shook my hand with her soft pale one, and then dropped it.

"Call me Whatsername."

"Why?" I asked softly.

"No one ever remembers my name, so they always refer to me as 'Ol Whatsername'." Haushinka explained.

Jimmy beamed with pride at his long lost friend, and they appeared the perfect couple to me, as Whatsername was a head and a half shorter than Jimmy, with soft feathery black hair and Jimmy had the proud face of man fresh from the altar. Now, more than ever, I wanted to be Jimmy so bad. I had a fake smile on, hoping Jimmy wouldn't notice my lack of total elation as he led Whatsername and me into the warehouse.

"Whatsername just popped in all of a sudden. Hitchhiked all the way from Chicago to Cisco, and then walked to Berkeley!" Jimmy said in amazement.

"Total misery," she agreed. "I had my thumbs out on the highway for hours!" She made a dramatic gesture and fell back onto the pallet Jimmy used for a bed. "Finally somebody was nice enough to stop. I remembered Jim here telling me that he was in Pinhole, so I caught up with him just as he left school today."

I nodded. "So, uh, you don't go to school?"

"Hell, no!" Whatsername cried. "Horrible place."

Jimmy sat next to her, grinning. "Want to come with me to school tomorrow and scare the fuck out of the teachers?"  
The girl nodded vigorously, her hair bouncing. "That'll be sweet. so Jesus, do you go to Pinhole Valley High as well?"

I dipped my head. My throat was too constricted from shyness to speak at the moment, really. I found myself tongue-tied and my palms sweaty.

Jimmy glanced at his watch. "Oh, shit, Jesus, it's late. You should probably go home now!"

I looked at my own watch, glad for a reason to have to look at something other than the girl Jimmy had his arm around. I noticed the time, and cringed, as Mom and Brad were probably home now and therefore knew I was not.

"You're right, I'd better go." I said a quick goodbye to Jimmy and Whatsername and ran all the way home, my mind racing.

**CHAPTER 4**

The next morning Jimmy stood alone by the door, waiting for me like he has every morning since school began this year.

"Hey, Jesus," he called.

"Where's Whatsername?" I asked, sad not to see her.

"Sleeping off yesterday, kid. I would be too, if I had hitchhiked from the east and walked through California."

"Oh."

Jimmy and I went through the school doors, jostled by the crowd. Jimmy, being the cool, admired person that he was, was stopped and greeted by most of the tattooed, pierced stoners and punks of the school. We eventually made it to my locker, where I collected my books for class, Jimmy following. He doesn't go to his own locker anymore, and I don't think he even remembers the combination. He keeps his important textbooks in my locker, and the rest he's left at the bottom of the San Francisco Bay, in random hotel rooms, or in the case of his much loathed History textbook, that Asian violinist's pants, because Jimmy smeared glue on the cover and Hae-Young sat down on it, unnoticing. No one likes the kid, because he thinks he's better than everyone else because he can play a chromatic scale. Jimmy can, too, because he took a few weeks of violin himself from his foster mother before dumping it in favor of the bass. The warning bell then chimed, and I slammed my locker shut.

"See you later, Jimmy," I said, leaving for my first hour.  
"You're such a loser for trying to be punctual, kid." Jimmy laughed as he walked beside me. "When you free the strict reins of society, you can live free--"

"With marijuana in my hand and a hot girl by my side. Yes, I've heard your story before." It's Jimmy's usual tease.

Jimmy looked a bit put out that somebody had finished for him, but he punched my shoulder in a friendly way and said farewell by way of, "See you in second, kid!"

Jimmy didn't, however, because he was chucked into In-house suspension again, but at lunch, which I spent hanging out in the courtyard with a group of all of mine and Jimmy's friends, Whatsername showed up, jumping off the roof and knocking bits of gravel into my soda.

"Look out below!" She called. Her skirt flared out as she sailed down, and landed perfectly beside me. "Anyone notice me?"

"I did," about 20 kids said from various different cliques outside.

"I meant anyone who could realize I don't even go to this school." Whatsername laughed. "You've got some strict security at the door, children. Metal detectors, I ask. It's not like Jimmy's going to come in here with a gun and blow you all to bits. Speaking of Jimmy," she looked around. "Where is he?"

"In-house, again." I explained.

"Damn." Whatsername sat down beside me at the picnic table. "Well, are you going to introduce me to these fine young people?" she asked me, as they all gave her odd looks.

I pointed to each in turn. "Brandon, Kryssie, Mick," I said, going around until everyone had been introduced. They all smiled and nodded at Whatsername politely, and when I was done, she stood up on the table, bowed dramatically, and proclaimed to all and sundry that she was a dear old friend of Jimmy's up for a visit. Then she got down and stole my cookie, and munched on it blissfully until the whistles sounded for us to get ready for the end of lunch. Kryssie piped up,

"How are you getting back outside?"

"Watch me," Whatsername said pleasantly. She got up and strode through the courtyard door ahead of us. "Create a distraction, Jesus."

"How?"

"Run into the office screaming or something," she said.

"No!" I replied. "I don't want to get in trouble!"

"Ah," Whatsername sighed, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Jimmy was right. You are young and mature." She patted my arm, then smiling, walked into the office herself. I heard her complain of having a headache, and they gave her some Tylenol. She walked back out again, smiling still.

"What was the point of that?" I asked.

"Free drugs!" She popped the pills in her mouth and walked out the front door of the school. I shook my head and headed off for my next class.


	4. Chapter V

**CHAPTER 5**

I could feel hot tears sting the corners of my eyes as I zipped up the backpack lying on my bed. My entire life was in that bag. Mom had pissed me off beyond belief just now, and finally I'd realized that my only option for a better life was to leave. I'd looked to Brad, but he'd stuck with Mom, like he always does. And today wasn't any different. So I was running away.

After all, Jimmy seems perfectly content in the warehouse, living on a steady diet of marijuana and stale food. I could too, then. I thought of it as a holiday, a long holiday, except I'd never have to return. I wiped my eyes, now cheering up slightly. This could work, it really could. I slung my guitar over my shoulder and snuck out of the house carrying my backpack. I arrived at Jimmy's home quickly.

"Jimmy?" I called.

"Yeah?" Jimmy came to the door and his eyes widened. Seeing by backpack hanging loosely over my shoulder. "You ran away?"

I nodded, hoping my face wasn't blotchy from crying as Whatsername came to the door also.

"You chose an excellent night, kid!" Jimmy grinned enthusiastically and held up cannabis and blowtorches. "Bonfire night!"

I perked up a bit. Bonfire nights were always loads of fun, and Jimmy always did something odd on each night. My mom had usually impeded me coming, though.

Whatsername took my guitar and suitcase inside, and then we all went around back to the industrial-sized dustbins behind the warehouse. Jimmy tossed several cans of stolen hairspray from the salon nearby, and then he lit the torch. The entire trashcan caught fire, and the three of us jumped back, howling with delight. The huge fire lit up the entire alley behind the Boulevard, so called by most of the city's residents, though recently it had become known as the "Boulevard of Broken Drams" because of some kid's vandalism. It _was_ a pretty slummy street, really.

Whatsername handed me a bottle of beer. "Feel better, kid," she told me, kissing my cheek. I blushed a vivid red, but we were all pretty red in the firelight. Jimmy had stolen some mannequins also, from the department stores in the mall, and effigyied them all to be the teachers and principals who'd ever put him in suspension. We watched interestedly as he took out his dead dad's pistol, shot several rounds into each mannequin (there were about ten) in a row, then set each one individually on fire by dousing them with gasoline. Whatsername and I cheered as they burned, and laughingly, Jimmy lit his joint with the principal effigy and began smoking.

"And here goes Mrs.Miller!" Jimmy screamed, tossing the torch nose toward the last mannequin. Grinning, we all curled up upon a blanket that smelled faintly of marijuana and sex. Whatsername sat between me and Jimmy, and Jimmy had his arm around her. I have to admit, I was jealous. Jimmy always got the girls and me … well, Whatsername was just so awesome. A secret part of my heart hoped Jimmy would go away so I could have her, but Jimmy's my best, and pretty much only, friend.

We sat for what seemed like hours as Jimmy passed the joint around to us and we slowly got stoned. He lit another in the dying fires, and then came back to us on the blanket. I'd thought that Whatsername was asleep, but to my surprise she slipped her hand in mine and smiled sweetly. Jimmy noticed, and smiled, I saw, like the father of a girl who was getting married to a man he approved of. Did Whatsername like me? And would Jimmy's small smile mean that I was allowed to like her back? I fell asleep, my hand still around her's, pondering the questions racing through my mind as the fire died down to the bitter charcoal pieces of the effigy of the school police force. Whatsername held my heart in her hand, and with every little move she made, she squeezed it a bit more. But it was welcome.


	5. Chapter VI

**CHAPTER 6**

The fire had completely died out by the next morning when the three if us woke up. We were still in the alley behind Jimmy's warehouse, sleeping on the blanket, even though it was kind of cold. But for the first time, I was thankful for California's cool nights. Whatsername had curled up beside me sometime during the night to steal my body warmth, and I was pleased.

Jimmy, who I'm beginning to think is a temperature-resistant zombie, was perfectly comfortable sprawled out over half the blanket, a burned out cigarette dangling from his mouth.

I had a pretty nasty hangover, and an avid need to go to the bathroom. Reluctant though I was to leave Whatsername, nature was practically screaming in my ear. I unwrapped her arms from around me and went in search of a good place to piss. The Circle K was open, so I ducked in there. The bathroom there was pretty dingy, and then I remembered that I was now homeless. That's more dingy. I spotted a condom machine, and not one to pass up free offers, even if I'd never use one of these, I stuffed my pockets full of 6 or 7. Jimmy could probably make good use out of them. It turned out to be a good thing; a couple quarters fell out of a hole in my pocket. I picked them up and smiled. Perhaps I could buy a slurpie for the three of us. I stood in front of the slurpie machine for awhile, trying to decide the best flavor to get. I decided on cherry; it's Jimmy's favorite and probably Whatsername's too. I paid for it and went back to our "camp site".

Whatsername was sitting on the blanket, an overlarge black trench coat covered in Operation Ivy and Nirvana patches wrapped around her slim body to keep out the cold.

"Hi, Jesus," she yawned, covering her mouth with her hand politely. "Going to share that with me?"

"Maybe," I teased. She reached out for it and I pulled it away, then laughed and gave it to her.

"Thanks," she said, sipping on it with her lips on the straw exactly where mine had been just minutes ago. I wanted her lips on mine, not my straw.

I was jealous of a straw.


	6. Chapter VII

**CHAPTER 7**

We ended up calling the school from a pay phone at the corner of the block, pretending to be each other's parents. Whatsername, not being a student at our school, did my mother's voice, mimicking it so well that for a minute I thought she was my mother in disguise. Jimmy made some background chatter, pretending he was Brad. The office believed it, and we hung up. We waited for ten minutes, and then picked up the phone again.

"Pinole Valley High School, Administrative Office," the bright sickly sweet voice of Mrs.Hillman, the secretary, rang out.

"Hello," I began, making my voice as low as it would go and more adult-like. "This is Bob Coleman, my foster son, James, won't be attending school today, he's quite ill."

"James is in what grade? Oh, never mind, I know _exactly_ who you're talking about." The secretary groaned slightly when she figured out I was talking about St. Jimmy and hung up. I gave Jimmy the thumb's up sign, though my insides were churning. I'd never skipped school before, and I was kind of nervous. What if I was caught? Mom would kill me for two things, running away and skipping.

Whatsername seemed to know what was going through my head. "C'mon, Jesus, it'll be totally okay. We're going to have fun!" She grabbed my arm excitedly. "Let's go see that new horror movie that came out today!"

Jimmy nodded vigorously. "What theatre? Down the street, by the Rite-Aid, or the mall?"  
Whatsername gave him her trademark, '_You're the one in charge, dumbass,' _look. "Which is the easiest to sneak into?"

"We're not paying?" I asked, surprised.

Jimmy and Whatsername rolled their eyes in unison.

"Duh," Jimmy said. "They still owe me for kicking me out of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre without a refund. I'm going to get it."

I decided to save myself, so I agreed. We all donned jackets and stuffed some of Jimmy's money in various places. I had a ten in my shoe, Whatsername had several ones hidden in her hair clip, her bra, etc., and Jimmy had the rest tucked inside a rip in his blue "Sweet Children" baseball cap, which he wore backwards. I asked why, and Jimmy told me that there were several people out to get him and his (seemingly endless supply of) money, but he was low on weed and so he'd made an appointment with some dealer by the mall. I have a feeling Jimmy really is rather rich from the hundreds of scams he's pulled from New York to Hawaii, and he's also a brilliant pickpocket. I was actually holding my wallet in my hand one day, and Jimmy still managed to snake my money and ID without my knowledge. (He gave them back of course.)

We walked down the Boulevard and caught one of the many buses that passed frequently. Jimmy dumped a shitload of pennies into the ticket box and we all sat down in the back of the bus. When the driver wasn't looking, Jimmy leaned over to mutter in my ear.

"That's about one dollar, what I just put in there. I should have paid three."

I smiled. "Evil."

Whatsername asked what, so I explained very softly as the bus drove down the road. Jimmy unearthed a cassette player and started to listen to Sweet Children, a well-credited local punk band that Jimmy idolized. I have no clue how this kid manages to live on the streets, buy more marijuana than is grown in all of California, support himself and two friends, and _still_ have money left over to buy cassette tapes. Jimmy really has it all together.

The mall came quickly into view after a discussion of punk politics and the latest on Gilman Street, a make-shift club where punk, metal, and other rock bands through out the whole Bay area came to challenge one another and perform. Jimmy lazily yanked the cord above our heads. The bus slowed for us and stopped, and the three of us and a few other passengers got off. One called out to Jimmy as he passed. "Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

Jimmy looked over at the man, and then let out a raucous laugh. "Are you kidding me? I graduated last year!" Jimmy waved a listless hand at him and led Whatsername and I away to the theatre.

Fortunately, for us, it was completely packed. Under the pretense of using the bathroom, we walked down the corridor of the theatre, and then casually ducked into the cinema itself, Jimmy in the lead. We filed into the backmost row, Jimmy, Whatsername, then me. We chattered mindlessly until the movie began, and then started watching it instead of Jimmy climbing the back wall, which he did during the previews.

It wasn't a frightening movie. At least, not to me or Jimmy. But then again, Jimmy is a desensitized freak that wanted to go swimming after watching Jaws and spent the night in a haunted house armed with only paint thinner. It's rumored to be a good ghost-repellant, but Jimmy used it all up to get high. Of course, he did watch both his parents commit suicide when he was 4, and that would desensitise anyone. I wasn't scared either, but when things popped out suddenly on screen I would jar slightly.

Whatsername, on the other hand, was totally freaked. She may be older than both of us, but there's no denying that she spent the entire movie clinging to my shirt, her face buried in my chest. About halfway through the movie, Jimmy stood up, placed his hands on Whatsername's waist (which made her yelp because she thought it was a ghost) and deposited her in my lap!

"Jesus, I trust you to take care of my baby sister. I'll be right back," he whispered loudly to us.

"Where are you going?" I responded just as softly.

Jimmy muttered something about drinks and popcorn and then I heard his combat boots clunking down the balcony steps to the exit below.

My attention returned to the girl Jimmy had just dropped on me. I'm pretty sure she would have gone back to her seat then, but a woman in the movie screamed bloody murder, and she buried her face in my neck, whimpering. I wrapped my arms about her, but continued to watch the movie myself. I spent it wondering if she would go back to her own seat, which was slowly growing cold, but she untended in my arms and soon we were both very comfortable.

Jimmy came back soon, his messenger bag loaded with stolen soda and candy and a large tub of (actually paid for) popcorn in his hands. He eased past us, by way of going in the row in front of us and flipping over the back to get to his seat, and then a flash went off. A few people turned in the direction of it, and Jimmy was pocketing a camera.

"Sorry," he hissed to them. "I'm sorry, but you two looked so cute together." He directed to us.

Whatsername blushed in the movie's dim light, and I'm pretty sure my face was not less pale than hers. I could feel my skin burning. I frowned at Jimmy, who only smiled innocently and offered me popcorn. I took some, and one of his nicked sodas. He'd managed to get some beer as well, so we spiked all of our drinks. Well, Whasername's and mine, whereas Jimmy drank flat-out beer from the bottle.

"Your son's going to die!" Jimmy yelled suddenly to the woman in the movie after having a little too much to drink. Most of the audience burst into relieved laughter, but one rather plump woman jumped up and stormed past us.

"I think we pissed someone off," Whatsername said as the fuming woman strode past.

"You sure' did!" She barked, slamming the exit door behind her.

Jimmy, still thinking straight, made us move quickly. We went into the very front row, and much to my surprise and pleasure, Whatsername opted for my lap again. It made me happy, because it proved that she liked me just a little bit. If only a little. And after the movie, what made me the happiest, was when I gathered up enough courage and asked her out whilst Jimmy was in the bathroom losing the beer.

She said yes.


	7. AUTHOR NOTE

Due to recent reviews, I would just like to take a moment to say that this story isn't going to be exactly like the American IdiotCD. And as you are about to see in the next chapter, I did make up most of the plot; and only some of the characters, and about 1/6 of the American Idiot CD's plot is actually part of this story.

And as another little side note, I would also like to say that I already have this entire story finished and typed on my computor, and am currently working on a sequel (titled "St. Jimmy" that has almost nothing to do with the American Idiot CD). The reason I'm only giving you one small bit of the story at a time is because I want to see how people react to it. So, the more reviews I get, the sooner I'll post new chapters.

And thanks to everyone that has reviewed my story and also to RainShadowCK (Crystal), who has the BEST fucking Fruits Basket fan fiction EVER! And also to Jess, Kat, and the one and only Matthew for reading and supporting this story.

RainShadowCK also happens to be my best friend, and during this past summer, her and my family went on a trip to New Hampshire, where we got so bored that we wrote a kind of Dragonball Z fiction that's pretty much pointless and ass-splittingly funny. In a few of them, Green Day makes a camieo in the form of Pigmy Puffs from Harry Potter... and I might just post them.And the best part is,you don't have to be a DBZ fan to enjoy them either. So look for the story"Comic Relif" when I decide to post them on Fan 


	8. Chapter VIII

**CHAPTER 8**

After spending two and a half days wondering what the best date would be for us, I finally decided on something so incredibly overdone and cliché; a nice dinner for two at a romantic restaurant. I knew the perfect place; it was a few blocks away. Jimmy had mentioned the name once before, and when I asked his advice, it came to mind when he said 'romantic dinner'. He'd even been kind enough to 'accidentally' slip a credit card in my wallet (Pick pocketing works in reverse, too.) seeing as how I was poorer than his biological mom. She was so poor I'm surprised she was able to afford the gun to kill herself with.

On Friday night, I donned a navy blue suit of Jimmy's. If it weren't for Jimmy, I'd be horribly screwed, financially, and A) I had no fancy clothes and B) my clothes were all dirty anyway. I must have spent an hour straightening my tie just right and combing every last hair strand into place. Jimmy finally pushed me out, claiming that I had to leave soon if I was leaving at all. He didn't know which restaurant I was planning to go to, but he still knew I'd made a timed reservation. I stepped out and waited at the bottom of the stairs for my date, who was on the second floor of the warehouse getting ready herself.

When she came down, I had to keep my jaw from dropping and clunking on the warehouse floor. She was stunning. Her feathery hair was tucked back neatly over her elegant dress of dark red silk, which clung to her curves perfectly. Compared to my slightly faded attire, she was fashion epitomized.

"Hey," she said shyly. "You look nice."

"Thanks, you look incredible."

The door banged behind us as Jimmy ran off into the night. He'd never once told us where he was going in the evenings, but we figured it was a drug deal or something Jimmy-like. After all, his name is short for breaking in (jimmying).

"C'mon, let's go." Whatsername held her hand out tentatively and I took it. Nervously I led her out of the warehouse and onto the street. Because of the fact that the restaurant was just a few blocks away, I had forgone a taxi. We walked the short distance and I led her into the restaurant. The maitre d asked me name as we approached him, glancing in his reservation book.

"Armstrong," I said quickly.

Whatsername glanced briefly at me as the maitre d wrote in his book, and a porter-thingy-man led us to our table.

"That's not your surname, right?" Whatsername asked.

"I know. But I'm a missing kid, remember?" I explained.

She nodded in understanding. "Where's the waiter?"


	9. Chapter IX

**CHAPTER 9**

"I can't go out there!" Jimmy hissed, peering past the kitchen doors.

The head waiter, a surly man of 37 years, frowned. "Why not? That's your station, James."

Jimmy sank to his knees, running his hand through his once-neat locks. "Jordan, that's my best friend sitting at table 16. He can't know I work here!"

"Get up," Jordan lazily snapped. "Go serve them or get fired. They look too into each other to notice anything else."

Jimmy nodded slowly. "Fine." He didn't want to get fired; he'd worked too hard to get this job already. He picked up a tray of food with shaking hands that table 15 had ordered and braced himself.

His two best friends sat together at table 16, talking softly. Jimmy ran his hand through his hair nervously again, then to avoid having to speak to them yet, he took the tray to the table next to theirs. He silently handed food to the patrons, a fake smile on his face, and then he went over to table 16 where his cover was blown.

"Good evening, my name is James and I'll be your waiter this evening. May I start you two off with anything to drink?"

Jesus and Whatsername glanced up. In disbelief they saw Jimmy, standing there in a white shirt and deep red pants, holding a notepad poised to take orders. His nametag, fancy as it was, read '_James Dirnt_', and was positioned perfectly in accordance with his red tie. Whatsername was the first to recover from the shock, and she snickered helplessly. Jesus quickly imitated.

Jimmy stood there, a facial expression reading a mixture of polite annoyance. "Can I get you anything to drink?" he asked again.

"Sure, can we have wine, Jimmy?"

"I'll have to see an ID, sir," Jimmy stated monotonously, as though he didn't recognize his best friend.

Jesus knitted his eyebrows, but then pulled out a driver's permit that clearly stated he was a few years shy of 21. Jimmy glanced at it briefly, and then nodded.

"Wine, coming right up." Jimmy scribbled it down on his notepad and handed his friends menus. "I'll be back in a minute to see if you two have made choices on what to eat, okay?" He dipped his head forward politely and started to walk away.

"Jimmy," Whatsername said suddenly.

Jimmy turned. "Do you have a question or comment, ma'am?"

"Yes," she snickered again. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I work here, ma'am."

Jesus frowned. "Drop the act, Jim."

"I can't sir, I'd be fired." Jimmy picked up a plate with dedication, then hissed out of the corner of his mouth, "I'll talk to you tomorrow morning, okay?" He quickly went back into the kitchen.

Jesus leaned over the table to talk softly to Whatsername as Jimmy walked away. "Fancy seeing old Jimmy here, eh?"

Whatsername snickered. "Let's be really obnoxious just to piss him off. Like tip over your wine. Do a lot of cruel stuff."

Not one to deny the woman he was trying to impress, Jesus nodded. "It'll be my pleasure."

Jimmy soon reappeared with a bottle of wine tucked under his arm and his trusty notepad. He poured two brimming glasses of red wine, and then just as he was taking Whasername's order, Jesus accidentally-on-purpose tipped his cup. The red staining liquid flew all over with a flourish, all over the midsection of Jimmy's clean white shirt and soaking him thoroughly at the waist. The table made no batter fare, it too was saturated.

"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry!" Jesus cried loudly and flakily. "Here, let me help you clean it up!"

"No, that's alright." Jimmy said stiffly. He took some linen napkins from the table and blotted his shirt with them, then the table.

Jesus and Whatsername were fighting off grins as they watched Jimmy's moral, polite side and his violent, revengeful side battle. Jimmy knew that his friends were teasing him; he wasn't blind, or he'd be dead, but he didn't want to lose his job by arguing with customers. Sighing, he left to go place the orders with the overweight cook in the greasy kitchen.

Jesus and his date were still snickering. They quickly finished off what was left of the wine, even before Jimmy came back with a polite scowl, damp shirt, and two plates.

"Hey, Jimmy, mate!" Jesus gave him a manly slap on the back as he passed that sent him a step forward too fast. Jimmy straightened up.

"Yes, sir?"

"Ah, Jimmy, we love you." Whatsername laughed loudly. "Oh, sorry." She tucked in her foot after sending Jimmy sprawling on the floor with not only wine now, but veal mignon all over his once-clean shirt.

"Clumsy me," he hissed sarcastically, raising himself up on his arms. "Didn't see your foot there, miss." He stood up and his two best friends laughed to see the amount of torture his uniform had gone through. "I'll go get you another plate, sir." Jimmy directed at Jesus holding up the ruined meal with an apologetic face. "Would you like some more wine?"

"Yes!" Whatsername cried, her voice several decibels too loud.

Jimmy frowned and headed back for the kitchen, where he was stopped by his boss.

"Kid, what the hell? Did you roll in the entree?" He demanded.

"Har-de-har-har," said Jimmy dryly. "No, my delightful customers have decided to plaster me with their dinner."

"You mean those folks being loud out there?"

Jimmy nodded in agreement. "Yes, those are my best friends. Why, God, why did they have to come _here_?"

"Get them to stop disturbing other patrons or kick them out," said the older man, unbuttoning his shirt. "Put my shirt on, you can't go out there with baby deer all over you."

"Cow."

"What?"

"Isn't veal baby cow?" asked Jimmy.

"No," said Jordan assuredly. Jimmy shrugged and switched shirts. As he buttoned up the last button and adjusted his tie over it, a large crash resounded just outside the kitchen. Jimmy yanked the door open to see a once-piled serving cart that had been parked outside the kitchen lying in two parts with plates and food smashed and smeared everywhere.

Jordan leaned over to read the label on the fore-right leg. "Whichever fuckwit waiter left this out here, one more mishap tonight and you're out of my restaurant." He called.

All the waiters and waitresses in the nearby vicinity cringed as Jordan read the name, and then turned to one of them.

"James," he read in a very unammused voice.


	10. Chapter X

**CHAPTER 10**

Suffice to know of our night that I will not divulge the details. But poor old Jimmy, his bed was now tainted.

He wasn't too pleased about it, either. I awoke the next morning to see his face hovering over mine and his eyes were dark and authoritative.

"I want to talk to you," he said sharply.

"About what?" I murmured. I wanted him to go away so I could sleep.

"About everything. Get up."

I pulled the blankets closer to my chin and sighed. "Don't want to."

"Get up!" I felt something hit my head and I opened my eyes to see Jimmy holding his trusty pistol.

"Okay, okay, okay, let me get dressed!" I yelped, cowering down. Jimmy smiled and stood back to let me get out of bed. However, he didn't realize that I was, in fact, completely naked under the covers. I cleared my throat and cocked my head toward the sleeping girl next to me. Jimmy understood.

"Meet me in the alley, kid." Jimmy left, and I quickly got dressed. Whatsername was still asleep when I stole out of the warehouse to find Jimmy pacing around the charred mannequins and smoking a cigarette.

When he saw me, he stopped pacing and walked toward me. As he advanced, he was backing me against the wall.

His face was a total of five inches away from mine as he drew out his pistol again and placed the cold tip to the side of my head.

"Uh, Jimmy, what are you doing?" I tentatively asked. There was no telling what Jimmy would do to me.

"I think a better question would be… what did _you_ do to my sister, oh great, Jesus of Suburbia?" Jimmy narrowed his cold dark eyes.

I bit my lip. "Jimmy, we were drunk!"

"That's no excuse!" He hit the pistol butt against my head, hard, and I cowered. Jimmy was certainly pleased to see me cringe in fear and narrowed his eyes further, if that was possible. "Jesus, that's no excuse!" He swore.

I turned my gaze away his lethal-looking eyes. "I'm sorry, but I really do like Whatsername. And I'm sorry if you don't like seeing us together."

Jimmy hit the pistol against my head again, obviously more pissed. "Goddamn it, Jesus, that's not what I meant!" he hissed. "I don't have a problem with you and my girl."

I held back a small sigh of relief.

"But," he started again, grabbing my chin and forcing me to stare into his eyes once more. "I **do** have a problem with you two doing it on the first date, on _my_ bed, with _my_ condoms, AND YOU'VE ONLY KNOWN HER FOR A FEW WEEKS!" he screamed in my face. Bits of his spit splattered on my skin, but I as too frightened to wipe it off. I cowered against the wall behind me. I wasn't ashamed of cowering because Jimmy's face was contorted with contempt and fury. What had happened to my best friend?

Jimmy stood back and glared at me for a minute, then glared down the alley. I would have looked away, but for some reason I had to keep my eyes on him. He let out an angry sigh, and turned back to me.

"You hurt her... You hurt her in **any** way, and mark my words, I'll fucking kill you." He threatened, waving the pistol in front of my face. He put his gun away and stormed down the alley as my knees crumpled under my weight and I stared helplessly after the person idolized, my best friend, St.Jimmy.


	11. Chapter XI

**CHAPTER 11**

When I next saw Jimmy, he was the same old Jimmy we knew and loved. When he first walked in, holding a bunch of McDonald's food, I was nervous that he would do something, and Whatsername was slightly paranoid as well. But Jimmy only held up the bags and grinned in the way that only a teenager with food can, and sat down next to us.

"Hey, children, how's it going?" He asked. Without waiting for a reply, he offered us food. "Hamburger, soda," He nuzzled up to me. "..._fries_?" He said seductively, waving the bag under my nose.

"Knowing my weaknesses will not make me love you any more, freak," I told him, snatching the proffered box of fries and scarfing down several in one bite.

Whatsername politely sipped a soda, still nervous. Jimmy was a damn good actor (which got him out of sticky situations a lot); no telling what was burning underneath his giddy exterior. "So why you'd bring food today?"

Jimmy gulped a deep swig of Dr. Pepper and disregarded her a moment, then coughed. "I'm just being nice and getting food for you."

"Ah," both Whatsername and I said in unison

"Do you want me to starve you?" Jimmy asked suddenly.

We stayed silent, eating our food.

"Let's go trash the grocery store: Jimmy stated, shocking us out of a 15-second silence. I almost dropped my fries.

"That was... sudden, Jim."

He nodded. "And **_you're_** the ones to talk, you two."

I colored slightly as Jimmy leapt up.

"C'mon, kids, let's go. What's the time?" He glanced at his watch and jumped. "Motherfucker, I was supposed to be there by now!" He stomped his foot. "Why? _Why_ am I always late!" And with that, he raced out of the warehouse.

"Jimmy!'" I yelled, running after him. "Where are you going, work?"

"No, I'm going to—" He broke off into a fit of fake-sounding coughs and sped up. "Man, I'm fucking late!"

I was already stating to get out of breath. "Jim, going alone?"

"Yeah, see ya!" He called. He then stopped and tossed something to me, then was down the street in a heartbeat. I stopped entirely, and bent down with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. I don't know how Jimmy can run and run and run when he's a heavier smoker than most people I know.

"What's going on with Jimmy?" Whatsername asked as she jogged up to me and rested a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"He's – late – for – something -- don't know -- what." Every word was punctuated with a pant. Whatsername refrained from asking another question until I had regained my breath.

"What's that Jimmy tossed you?"

I remembered the little package Jimmy had thrown at me just now, and uncurled my finger. "Condoms," I snorted.


	12. Chapter XII

_A/N: If I've said it once, I've said it a million times, THIS STORY IS ONLY LOOSELY BASED ON THE CD! _

_And just as another little side-note, I'd like to inform you that there are only 18 chapters in this story, and then comes the sequel "St. Jimmy" (I may change the name in the future). And once this is done, St. Jimmy will probably have less chapters and almost absolutely nothing to do with the CD. . . and I'll probably update less of St. Jimmy, too. . . _

**CHAPTER 12**

When Jimmy showed up that evening, looking as though somebody close to him had died, he absolutely wouldn't tell us what was wrong with him. He slammed open the warehouse door, stormed over to his bed, kicked aside the sheets, and then flopped angrily onto it, totally ignoring us the whole time.

"Jim?" Whatsername began sympathetically. "Something wrong?"

"No. Fuck off."

"Jimmy, dude, what's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing. Fuck off." He placed a pillow over his head, which Whatsername took away.

"Jimmy, something's wrong with you."

"Nothing's wrong with me. Now, fuck off."

Whatsername glanced helplessly at me, and then turned back to our distraught friend. "Jimmy, you only ever end three consecutive sentences with 'Fuck off' when you're either mad, or unhappy."

Jimmy didn't reply. He made a sort of aggravated grunt, and then pulled the thick blankets over his head to hide himself from us entirely. Whatsername glanced helplessly at me again.

"Jesus, what are we going to do about him? He's too stubborn." She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder towards the pile of blanket that was my obstinate best friend.

Jimmy heard her, though. One hand snaked out, and above his black and yellow sweatband (that he stole from me), the middle finger salute was held in her direction briefly, and then Jimmy pulled his hand back under the covers. Whatsername scowled at that, and then laid a prompt whack to where she assumed Jimmy's head to be. In a flurry of blankets, Jimmy flew up, knocked her head gently (for his normal head-knocking strength), then disappeared into the blue oblivion again.

"Jesus, help me," Whatsername whined. "Jimmy's being a jackass again."

"I'm always being a jackass," Jimmy's muffled response came. For some reason it sounded choked, but under all those blankets, I wouldn't be surprised if he was slowly suffocating. "Everyone says so."

Whatsername gazed at the pile of blankets. "Who's everyone? I'm not everyone."

"Neither am I, though I've definitely said it before," I told him.

Jimmy grunted and snuggled into the blankets more.

"If I wasn't so sure of Jimmy's zombie-like, weed-induced state of no emotion, I'd say he's sad," Whatsername said, hoping to pry an angered reaction from the concealed St.Jimmy.

"I'm not sad."

"Then why do you sound so sad?" I asked.

"I don't sound sad!" Jimmy cried out.

Tired of the charade, I ripped the blankets away suddenly, surprising Jimmy and surprising myself. His cheeks showed pale wet tear streaks.

"Goddamn it, Jesus of Suburbia!" Jimmy yelled, his voice cracking, and snatching the blankets from my hand and burying himself once more, only in his hurry they were mal-adjusted.

"Hah," Whatsername snorted triumphantly. "You _are_ depressed."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, we've covered that," I retorted. "Jimmy, what's with the crying?" I asked, turning to the blankets.

"I'm not crying."

"Yes, you are. Why?"

"I'm. Not. Crying. Okay?" Jimmy's firm, but cracking voice announced.

I flopped down on his bed myself, lying across his pillow and resting my head on his padded one. "Well, tell us whenever you feel we're your best friends."

"Geroffa me," he muttered, squirming to remove me.

I refused to move, and instead, flung an arm over him and sighed in contentment. I was pissing him off, and it was fun.

"Get **_off_**!" He howled, flailing his limbs everywhere in an attempt to get rid of me.

"Not till you tell us why you're so glum, c'mon, we're your 'best friends.'" Whatsername cockily responded, doing the patented and overused two-finger motion as she said best friends.

Jimmy stopped fidgeting immediately. He held still, his breathing heavy. "Fiiiine."

I sat up and so did Whatsername, both of us watching the pile of blankets intently. "Tell us!"

Jimmy said something under the thick covers, but all it sounded like was a series of muffled grunts.

"What was that, St. Jimmy? Couldn't hear you, the blankets are in the way." I said to the breathing lump that was Jimmy.

"My girlfriend broke up with me, okay?"

I raised an eyebrow and glanced at Whatsername. It's not that Jimmy can't get a girl, therefore being extremely surprising when he _does_; it's just that Jimmy doesn't ever _ask_ anyone to be his girlfriend.

"Dude, you had a girlfriend and didn't tell us?"

"I didn't tell anyone," Jimmy replied dully. "Though I'm surprised you didn't hear it from anyone at school. Britney made sure everyone knew."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up, there, buckaroo," I cried. Whatsername glanced at me, confused, considering she wasn't from around here and didn't know many people. "Britney? As in Britney Parrish?"

"Yep."

I fell back, pretending to be in a dead faint. "Wow."

"Who's Britney Parrish?" Whatsername asked, looking between me and the blanket pile.

"Only the most popular girl in school, head cheerleader, straight 'A' student, and with the best influence in the police force, court, school system, and pretty much everything else." I said in awe. "The anti-Jimmy, in all ways."

Whatsername was obviously confused. "But why would you want to date anyone like that, Jim? I thought you loathed Barbie girls."

"Britney's pretty nice, actually, once you get to know her," Jimmy defensively replied.

"Okay, that's it." I stood up, positioned myself accordingly, and then jumped onto Jimmy, making sure my feet hit really hard. He howled in pain, and I overbalanced and fell towards Whatsername, who moved and let me fall onto her bed.

"**WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR, JESUS?**" Jimmy roared at me.

I propped myself up on my elbows and rolled my eyes. "James Dirnt, do you really think Britney ever liked you for you? She liked your bad-boy image."

Jimmy glowered at me, rubbing his bruised ribcage. "How would you know, punk?"

"Because everyone likes you for your bad-boy image, Jimmy. Do you really think a cheerleader would want to be caught dead going around with a punkass guy who wears wife beaters every goddamn day and lives in a fucking warehouse because she loves him? No, man, cheerleaders go out with jocks. To get the jocks, they go out with kids like you."

"How does that work out?" Whatsername asked me.

I adjusted my elbows underneath me and scowled at Jimmy. "He's smart, ask him."

Jimmy only rubbed his ribcage and returned my scowl.

"Fine." I said, sticking my tongue out at Jim. "Cheerleaders want to go out with jocks, because to them, jocks are the epitome of life. Society, if you will. However, to make the jocks come absolutely crawling to the scantily-clad whores with pompoms, the scantily-clad whore with the pompoms must first lower herself slightly. How? By fetching the most horrific match for herself, a.k.a. our friend Jimmy here. Now, in the world of underground and the business," I said, referring to the marijuana industry, "Jimmy is one of our gods. Not the best; the Mafia still claims number one. But Jimmy is probably the hardest typhoon to hit this area since forever, pretty much. Even the scantily-clad whores with pompoms see this."

"Hey, I'm _in_ the Mafia," Jimmy retorted.

"Yeah, but are you the Godfather?" Without waiting for a reply, I delved into my story again. "So when these whores know that jocks will be groveling in an effort to get their precious whores away from people like that—" I pointed at Jimmy, "they know they can get more boyfriends. Whores want plenty of boyfriends, and though they have no affection other than physical attraction for any of these, they have less attraction overall for that." I pointed to Jimmy again. "After all, to them, the jocks are better. Once they have all they need, or know that they will, they'll drop the bad boy because he's useless at this point."

Jimmy was still glowering at me. "As much as I hate to say it, that's true."

I shrugged in Jimmy's annoying way. "What can I say? I used to date a cheerleader, but she wasn't very smart and explained it all to me when she dumped me."

Whatsername glanced between us. "What happened to your morals?" She cried, throwing up her hands and flopping backwards dramatically. "Cheerleaders, psh." she muttered.


	13. Chapter XIII

**CHAPTER 13**

If the loss of his girlfriend unscrewed Jimmy badly, then what came next was what surely pushed him over the top. It was any old normal night a few weeks later, when Whatsername announced her intentions to go back to Chicago.

I wasn't sure I heard her quite right. "What did you say?" I asked, fearing the worst.

"I'm going back to Chicago. I can't take this shit-town anymore," she said, glancing carefully at me.

Jimmy propped himself up on his elbows, still lying where he had been staring at the ceiling in his boredom for the past hour. "You ever going to come back?"

She shrugged. "Depends."

"No thanks, just bought some more yesterday." Jimmy laughed at his own little joke.

"On what?" I demanded, ignoring Jimmy.

"I don't know know. If I feel like it. But frankly, I miss Chicago. I'm going back; I already have my bus ticket."

"Why're you going back to Chicago all of a sudden?" Jimmy cried.

"Cause I miss it there! There were less stupid laws and more Mafia!" Whatsername stormed. "God, I hate it here! This city's burning! It's not my burden, Jim. I can't take this place. I'm leaving you behind."

"What?" I cried, sitting up.

"I can't take this town, I'm leaving you tonight!"

"Tonight!"

"Yep. And don't try to stop me, guys; you knew I was going back soon anyhow!" Whatsername stood up in her blinding rage and grabbed her knapsack off the table. We'd seen her packing it, but we'd not been sure why. Now we knew. "Bye, dudes, see you in hell."

"You're leaving me?" I cried, running up to her. "You can't leave me!" I grabbed her arm, but she shook me off.

"Fuck off, kid. You were nice in bed, but we can't have the romantic and wonderful relationship you want, okay?"

I blinked. "I never said that's what I wanted."

"Well, you're sure as hell acting like it!"

"Whatsername, please, you can't leave me and Jimmy!"

Whatsername scoffed. "Whatever. You guys think you're all that. You're not the Jesus of Suburbia, and he's just a figment of your parent's rage and love." She cocked her head towards Jimmy, who stood in the doorway, smoking a cigarette and watching us through heavy-lidded eyes. "I'm going back, guys. I may or may not see you later."

"So you may come back?" I asked hopefully.

She shrugged. "If I do, you two will be the first to know. Bye." And with that, she set off down the streets of shame into the city lights.


	14. Chapter XIV

**CHAPTER 14**

I never thought Jimmy looked particularly threatening when he swung his wallet chain around his hand as he walked. It was something he'd done as long as my memory spanned, or at least since he'd had that particular wallet chain.

But apparently the police thought so or at least the cop that always seemed to be the one who nabbed Jimmy. Officer Dunlop was the proprietor's victim of a joke at the police station that as soon as Jimmy went up in need of another foster home, he would be the one who adopted him. Knowing Dunlop as well as he did (from being put in the back of his car so many times) Jimmy wasn't sure if this could be the reality.

Jimmy and I were walking across the Golden Gate Bridge sometime around 9 o'clock, a few nights after Whatsername had ditched us. I was trying to cheer him up, though neither of us felt like being very happy, but at least I seemed to be succeeding. Jimmy laughed weakly at something I said just as Dunlop's car rounded the corner and drove onto the bridge.

Jimmy frowned, still swinging his chain, but it was strikingly easy to see that nervousness was visible in his dark eyes, especially when the car slowed to a stop.

We started walking towards the black and white police car as Dunlop motioned us forward. Jimmy was still swinging his chain, but now it was from being tense, not boredom.

"Hey, whatcha' kids up to, huh?" The cop asked. I inwardly scowled. All cops think they can get bad kids to fess up if they act cool.

"Just walking around, Dunlop," Jimmy told him honestly.

"Yeah? Whatcha' got yer chain out for, huh?" Dunlop demanded in a voice he considered to be cool.

Jimmy glanced down at his chain and showed the cop. "This? I always whip this around."

"Whatcha' doin' out so late, huh?"

He uses 'huh' too much. It sounds like he has a throat problem.

"It's only 9:13," I said, checking my watch.

"Don't you kids got homes? Where's your homes, huh?"

Another huh.

"I'm property of the Coleman's, dude," Jimmy said, raising his hand innocently.

"Well, 'dude', why aren't you there?" Dunlop stepped closer, his policeman bulk almost, but not quite, dwarfing my skinny, underfed friend, therefore the intended effect was lost. Dunlop glared down his nose at him. "Why are you really out here? Spray-painting 'St. Jimmy Forever!' on the Circle-K, or perhaps stealing cars?"

"We aren't doing anything wrong, sir!" Jimmy defended. We really weren't. "And I've never painted 'St. Jimmy Forever' on a wall, that's gay."

Dunlop narrowed his piggy eyes, thoroughly convinced that Jimmy was guilty of... something. "Oh, yeah, dude? C'mon, show me the paint cans."

"I don't have any!" Jimmy cried. "How many times do I have to tell you **I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING!**"

Dunlop laughed a big, bark-like laugh. "Very funny, Jimster."

Jimmy scowled at the misuse of his beloved name.

"I know you're hiding something," Dunlop finished. "Can't I just handcuff you now and save time?"

"You know what? I'm getting fucking sick of you." Jimmy said suddenly. I was shocked, sure Jimmy's talked back nearly everyone in town, but he's polite to cops. "I'm getting fucking sick of how you act like I'm no good, that I'm always doing something wrong, you pig! Why do you think everyone calls you guys pigs!"

Dunlop tried to angrily retort, but Jimmy was nowhere near finished. Little did any of us know how far he would go with this.

"Somebody needs to fucking stop you jackasses!" Jimmy fingered something in his pocket.

"_You_—" Dunlop started.

"Aw, fuck this!" Jimmy yelled. He yanked something from his pocket, and the last thing he said before aiming his pistol was "You dirty fuckers!"

"**GET AGAINST THE CAR, NOW!**" Dunlop yelled, grabbing his handcuffs.

I tried to stop Jimmy, a gunshot rang out the still city night and a bloody body fell off the bridge before I could.


	15. Chapter XV

_Not like I care, but I should warn you that this chapter swears a lot . . . so, yeah. . .I'm done now, I think I'm going to go make myself a grilled cheese sandwich with ham and mustard. . . Mmmmm. . . mustard. . ._

**CHAPTER 15**

Jimmy dropped his pistol in horror, the reality of what he'd just done sinking in quickly as he staggered back. He turned to me, panicked, as everyone who'd been driving past crashed to a halt. There would have been a pile-up, but not one person moved.

"I just shot... I just killed a cop..." Jimmy said dazedly, staring down at his gun, and then at the massive bloodstain that was once Officer Dunlop's head. "I just **FUCKING KILLED SOMEBODY!**" He screamed. "**I FUCKING SHOT A FUCKING MAN WHO HAD A FUCKING FAMILY AT HOME!**" Jimmy's eyes glistened with tears as he twisted his shaky fingers through his ratty hair. He bent down and snatched up his dropped pistol.

"Jimmy, NO!" I yelped, advancing quickly. "What are you doing?"

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he held the gun to his head. I'd never seen him cry before, but he was crying now. "Jesus of Suburbia, I fucking killed somebody! I'll go to jail! I don't want to go there. **I FUCKING KILLED SOMEBODY!**" He raged, blinking rapidly to slow the onset of more tears.

"**WELL DON'T KILL YOURSELF AS WELL!**" I screamed right back. "Don't do it, Jimmy! Don't shoot that pistol."

"See you in hell, kid." He cocked the gun and stepped to the edge of the bridge.

"**SOMEBODY HELP ME, HERE!**" I bellowed to the shocked people in their cars, watching the whole scene. Honestly, they had NO right to be sitting there watching and not helping when my best friend was about to blow his fucking head off! "Help me," I whimpered, tears clouding my vision.

"Sorry, Jesus," Jimmy murmured. "Blame Mom and Dad." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"**NO!**" I screamed.

And Jimmy pulled the trigger.


	16. Chaper XVI

**CHAPTER 16-XVI**

Everything after that was a blur of crimson and flashing cop car lights in my mind. I only registered the fact that my best friend in the whole world was reduced to no more than a pile of bloody remains, lying on the edge of the bridge. I think most of him went into the water, along with Dunlop, though.

I was stricken with horror as I stared at the crimson stained gun, still smoking from the two shots. I couldn't believe it. St. Jimmy, the vivacious, loud, Jimmy whom everyone knew because he damn well made sure they knew, was gone. It was unreal.

It felt to me as though I stood there for hours. Somebody had called the cops, because before I knew it, another cop was gently snapping handcuffs over my wrists and I was led to a police car. I was so mechanical, in my shock, and did everything mechanically, even losing what bits of food I'd had for dinner when I realized _how_ much blood and filth was everywhere. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the rearview mirror, but didn't recognize myself. I was pale and hollow-eyed, looking as dead as Jimmy was.

I was guided into the station by three cops, all of whom I'd never remember. The station was freakishly bright, and far too close to the warehouse. In fact, it was on the same street. East Twelfth. I vaguely remember Jimmy saying once that he didn't want to walk too far everyday. It had made me laugh hearing it then, but now I just wanted to curl up and cry.

Mom and Brad sat on the hard wooden bench in the waiting room. Mom leapt up to hug me and all sorts of motherly things, but one of my flank held up his hand and directed her back. I guess I was rather thankful for that, really, though my mind was still detached from everything.

There was a lot of talk, but I don't remember any of it. The next thing I knew, a pile of papers was pushed in front of me, and a pen handed to me. I took it in my left hand, before remembering that I was right-handed, and started mechanically filling them out. My name, I must have signed 20 million times that night, though my shocked mind didn't comprehend what it was. Information about me, such as my birthday. I accidentally filled out Jimmy's birthday, and my mom placed her hand over mine to stop me writing, and whispered my mistake to me, and I corrected it with a blank expression. Then, the police talked to my parents for awhile, and tried to get me to talk, but I didn't answer very much. I wasn't at all helpful to them, which they should have realized from the start, so they led me to one of the empty cells and locked me in. I curled up in the corner, staring at the bricks on the wall, and I think I fell asleep after that, with my mom's promise that she and Brad would take me home in the morning.

The whole night seemed so surreal.


	17. Chapter XVII

_A/N: Happy December 24 everyone! Merry Christmass! Happy Hanaka! Merry Kwanza! Happy Holidays! As my gift to you, I'm posting chapter 17 earlier than I was planning to. And tomorrow (which is Christmas) I'll be posting the final chapter of "Amrican Idiot THE NOVEL" after I finnish opening presents! (HAHA!)_

**CHAPTER 17-XVII**

I woke up in a cold sweat, sitting up in bed and panting.

_What was that all about!_ I wondered, trying to remember. But the details of my dream just kept slipping away, like smoke in one's hands. I felt horrible. Not only had I just relived my childhood best friend's death, but I felt guilty... for missing that girl.

I glanced at my wife, lying beside me; her head nestled on the pillow and the blankets haphazardly thrown over her. Her breathing was steady and deep; she was mercifully still asleep. Thank god for that. She's why I felt bad, I mean, I was married, and I still loved Whatsername, and missed her, even though it had been ages since I'd last thought of her.

A particularly deep exhale blew some of her loose hair onto her face. Automatically I brushed it away, but she still didn't stir. I watched her for a minute, and then silently fell back onto my own side of the bed, exhaling a sad sigh. I closed my eyes, but faded images of Jimmy filled the hot space between my eyes and the lids, and I had no choice but to open my eyes and stare into the blackness of my bedroom, thinking, because my now horribly awake mind would not let me sleep. In my state of deanimation, I studied the faint reddish silhouettes of everything around me, lit dimly by the digital numbers on my alarm clock. Definitely a step up from the old warehouse I remembered so vividly. Several steps up; I was doing pretty damn well now. But the warehouse was not the only thing I was now remembering vividly...Jimmy's last moments kept playing like a projector stuck on the same span of a reel. Jimmy apologizing, me screaming, then whilst my young self and my 31-year-old self stared in horror, his head just... disappeared.

It made me want to vomit just thinking about it. That was one of the few times in my life with the power to do it. I was beginning to recall more easily everything that had happened since that night now, like getting out of jail the next morning, since it was only a temporary holding, and Mom taking me home. Everyone was on edge around me, worried that the slightest thing would make me-- as Mom said to Brad when she didn't know I was listening— 'pull a Jimmy'. I admit, it was rather nice that everyone respected me suddenly, but it did get annoying. And within a week, Whatsername had descended upon my house, scaring the hell out of my mom.


	18. Chapter XVIII

_A/N: Sorry this is a bit late guys. . . as a Christmas gift my cousin Jay took me, my mom, and by brother camping in New Hampshire for a few days. There was a lot of really cool stuff up there, unfortunately a computor wasn't on the list so I couldn't post this. :( . Oh well, better late than never, right? But I've decided to make it up to you guys by adding a special preview of the sequel "St. Jimmy" just for you guys! THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO READS THIS! ALL THREE OR FOUR OF YOU, PLUS JESS IMONDI WHO READS MY UPDATES IN SCHOOL!_

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_This is the conversation between Whatsername and Jesus a few weeks after Jimmy died. You might want to back-track and reread a bit of chapter seventeen._

**CHAPTER 18**

**FINAL CHAPTER**

"_Honey?" A light tap resounded on my bedroom door with my mother's cautious voice. "Honey, there's a girl here to see you." _

"Who is it?" I asked dully, still staring blankly at the ceiling.

"She says you'll know her as Whatsername..." Mom sounded confused.

I sat up lazily and stumbled out of bed. I made my way across my horribly clean room to my door and opened it to reveal Mom looking worried and Whatsername with her arms crossed across her chest and a slight scowl on her face.

"May I talk to him alone?" Whatsername asked Mom.

"Um... I suppose." Mom left, not really sure that she should have been leaving her traumatized son alone with this freakish teenager that reminded her of a female version of that 'St. Jimmy' character that was responsible for her son's current state. Whatsername nudged me back into my room and shut the door behind us.

"_Well, don't I get a surprised, yet ecstatic, hello?" Whatsername asked. _

I shrugged and stared at the floor, not certain of what to say or do.

"So what's this I've heard about Jimmy?" She demanded bluntly, reclining on my bed.

"He's dead." I murmured dully.

She nodded, obviously impatient."And?" She prompted, making a motion with her hands for me to go on.

I shrugged again. "He's dead."

"Ugh! I know! How_, you dipstick!" _

I wanted to slap her, but I loved her too much. "Jimmy's dead! He shot himself last week!"

"Shot himself, why? Where? When?" She bolted up to a sitting position and stared at me critically.

She was really pissing me off. Though I had been longing for her to return, it really wasn't like I had wanted. "What do you care!" I suddenly cried. "You left! You should have been there, but you weren't! You're half the reason Jimmy is gone! Jimmy died the other day, he blew his brains out into the Bay! He's dead and gone and nothing's going to change that!" I fell to my knees, tears in my eyes. This was the first time I admitted even to myself that Jimmy really was gone.

Whatsername's face fell; she wasn't glaring at me anymore. She was crestfallen for a brief moment, and then contorted with fury.

"Well, you're the other half! You could've stopped him, and you just stood there and watched him! You know what?" She leapt to her feet in a towering rage. "I'm sorry I came!" She yanked open my door and was gone before I'd even registered her words.

I never saw her after that. For most of my life, I'd tried to convince myself it was all just a life-like dream, and sometimes it worked. I mean, I'd gown up, found a wife, had kids, and lived rather happily. I'd made myself a success, despite my past. I figure because of my past I was driven to make myself something, I saw Jimmy go one way-- suicide-- and I didn't want that path.

But sometimes I did think of Whatsername, and wonder if she'd lived past twenty, and what she'd done with herself, like getting married and whatnot. Just a mutual interest, since we'd been so close for so brief a time.

It was a few years after Jimmy's death that I realized I needed closure; I really needed to do something for him in return for everything he'd done for me. I felt that I owed him. The city had long since put up a tiny plaque on the bridge commemorating Officer Dunlop, and I thought it unfair, that Jimmy deserved one too. So I waited for a bit, and then used my influence to get a plaque for my best friend. It was nothing much, just the words 'In Memory of St. Jimmy. The son of rage and love.' and a picture of his beloved pistol below it and was set into the pillar closest to here he'd died, which was unnervingly redder-tinged than the others. And whenever I felt depressed, I hopped in the car and went to look at the plaque. But then, he had been my best friend.

All these thoughts were running through my head in the dark. I probably hadn't thought this much about my childhood for a decade! And it was so much like a novel... A Bible of the Suburbs, I guess. And before I knew it, I'd thrown the covers off toward my wife, jumped out of bed, and went in search of my notebook and a pen. This was exactly the story I wanted! I wrote in frenzy, and finally dropped my pen in exhaust and relief. To this day, I don't know why it appealed to so many people, but it does, and millions know everything, from being an American Idiot, to Whatsername. And though I've almost forgotten her, I'll never forget the time.

**WATCH FOR THE SEQUEL TO THIS STORY IN A WEEK OR SO TITLED: "St. Jimmy"**

**Here's a sneak peak of what's to come:**

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**Come to think of it, I don't really know what happened to her. She could have moved on, but living her life like she did she had probably been murdered by now. 

Wait, murdered?

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"Gah," Jimmy muttered, checking his side mirror. "I hate cops!"

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"Stop stop stop stop," my wife snapped harshly. "Go to your bed and take a nap." She pointed to our bedroom- had I been less distraught I would have realized she was treating me exactly how she treats our sons when they misbehave.

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"They've been killed."

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There was this one day when all of us sat around on the couch because it was a boring day when I was actually home, we must have watched thirty "Scooby-Doo" reruns and gone through at least four gallons of chocolate milk. For a man who drinks every night of his life and has consumed more alcohol than there is in Amsterdam, I got surprisingly sick that night from all that chocolate milk. My kids had thought it really funny, so when we watched the thirty reruns of "Dora the Explorer" the next day they tried to make me drink more.

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"A perk of what?" I asked. 

"Being dead." He said.

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**Okay, okay, that's more than enough to encourage you to read "St. Jimmy". As of right now, I have the first four chapters written, so expect the first chapter of it in a week or two.**


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